


There’s a grace too powerful to name

by Ambros



Series: Tumblr Prompts [11]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, M/M, Well - Freeform, a lot of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 07:53:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11664825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambros/pseuds/Ambros
Summary: Anonymous asked: Could you do a malec fic where Max dies? I love you and your writing by the way!!





	There’s a grace too powerful to name

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for the prompt anon! It had been a while since I'd written this kind of angst!  
> I hope you "like" it!  
> Title is from It's Quiet Uptown from Hamilton :)  
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://sometimesambroswrites.tumblr.com/)!

You look at your sister and you want to say  _you’re wrong, they’re wrong_. It’s strange. Your mind keeps running in circles. It’s quiet.

Someone says  _Alexander_ , soft and kind, but you don’t understand – there’s no need for kindness, no need for tact, it’s just a mistake.

It’s Magnus, he takes a step forward like he’s afraid you’re going to run, but you’re  _not_ , you want to say _there’s a mistake_ , you almost laugh because everyone’s overreacting, wasting their pain for nothing.

They say  _he didn’t make it_ and the words echo strangely in your mind, you keep focusing on  _make it, didn’t make it_ , like he was supposed to try harder,  _didn’t make it, he didn’t make it._

But you know him.

He’s a fighter. He’ll try as hard as he can. He’ll make it. He never gives up. You think  _just give him another chance._

_Alexander_ , again, softer, Magnus brushes his hand against your cheek and it’s wet, and you don’t –  _oh._

-

You are bleeding through the bandages wrapped around your knuckles but you keep punching, the muscles in your arms  _burning_ , and you don’t feel anything else.

Jace calls your name twice before his palm is in front of your fist, and you still hit as hard as you can but he doesn’t flinch.

His eyes are red and his voice is broken when he says: -Alec, you’ve gotta stop doing this.

You stare at your hand, still trapped in his; you can feel Magnus’ eyes on you. He’s been sitting on the floor in a corner as long as you’ve been here.

You don’t know who he’s trying to protect.

You yank your arm backwards, say: -Get out of my way.-, and your voice is terrible and rough and low, and Jace looks at you like you’ve just broken his heart, like  _something_ has just broken his heart, but he takes a step back.

You keep punching.

-

-You can bring him back.

You’ve thought about this, it could work. He’s the most powerful Warlock you know, it  _will_ work.

He’s got desolation in his eyes as he looks at you; he whispers: -No, Alec, I can’t.

And: -You  _can’t_ or you  _won’t_?- is ripped from you with violence, because you know he won’t understand, that you accept the risks, that you don’t mind, that you just want –

He says: -If I could defeat death for you, I’d do it,- quiet, in pain, -No matter the price,- and you think there’s some heavy implication behind that, like he’s thought about what the price could be, -But I can’t.

And it hits you.

He  _can’t_.

Nobody  _can_.

There’s nothing to be done, nothing to be fixed.

He’s gone.

-

It’s two days until the funeral and your limbs are heavy like someone’s poured lead into your bones.

Magnus is lying next to you, his hand keeps brushing your cheek; it took you a while to realize you’ve been crying for a few hours now.

You say: -I don’t want to get up,- barely a whisper.

Magnus keeps brushing your cheek, your hair: -We don’t have to. Not yet.

-

You can barely stand, surrounded by white, white dresses and white jackets and white flowers, your mother standing next to Max’s covered body with tears streaming down her face, and then Magnus takes your hand.

A sob shakes your chest, makes the bones in your body tremble, and  _Max Joseph Lightwood, ave atque vale._

Izzy holds on to your other hand, and Clary onto hers, and Jace onto Clary’s.

_Hail and farewell._


End file.
